


Wishing Star

by Calysta18



Category: Andromeda (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29085666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calysta18/pseuds/Calysta18
Summary: A short pre-Andromeda story, which is has been reworked to include a little bit of present-time Andromeda - set in first season.  Enjoy
Kudos: 2





	Wishing Star

**Author's Note:**

> Re-discovered Andromeda on Amazon Prime, so thought I would move my Andromeda stories (written a good few years back) from Fanfiction to the Archive. Old stories, with a bit of a re-work
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda belongs to Tribune Entertainments. I am just borrowing the characters to play with for a while!

Darkness encompassed the refugee camp. The scuffling, but familiar, sounds of the night seemed to deafen Callum as he looked up toward the grey gloomy sky. He knew they were there, but the constant veil of mist, smog and smoke always obscured his view. Callum Harper closed his eyes trying to imagine the stars, trying to picture their sparkling brightness in his mind’s eye. 

Callum sighed trying to remember the last time he had seen the stars clearly. He screwed up his eyes in thought, and it suddenly came to him - he had been a small boy, and his father had taken him and his two older brothers to a hillside by their home at nightfall. They had sat on the ground listening as their father had pointed out the stars and telling them what their mystical names were. As they were about to make their way down the hill, their father had looked up pointing out the brightest star in the sky - he told them it was a Wishing Star. Callum smiled at the memory recalling how every day he had run up the hill as night fell to make a wish. The wish had always been the same - that he would work and live amongst the stars when he was older.

Callum slumped down on a fallen log. His childhood wishes had never come true, lost with everything else. The innocence of his childhood had given way to the harsh reality of his adult life. He squinted up into the murkiness longing to see just one star. Tonight, it was important that he saw a star, just one. One that he could wish on.

He sighed. The wafting stench of the camp assailed his nose, but Callum was used to it - they all were. Glancing around the camp distractedly, Callum regarded the cluster of small tatty huts that made up their homes. Not much to looks at, filthy and shabby, but home nonetheless.

Looking over his shoulder, he stared at the small hut where his wife, Ciara, was struggling to bring their son or daughter into the world. He had wanted to stay with Ciara, but his sister-in-law, Niamh, had shooed him out into the darkness away from his beloved wife. Callum had tried to insist that he stay, but Ciara had squeezed his hand as she nodded to him that she would be fine.

Callum knew that Ciara was afraid - the fall this afternoon and the vicious kick from a Nietzschean guard had brought on her labour early, and she was terrified that she would lose this baby, that the baby would be born dead.

The guard has just laughed at Ciara's agonised cries as she writhed on the dirty ground holding onto her swollen belly. If it hadn't been for his brother, Darragh, holding him back Callum would have died trying to kill the guard with his bare hands. Instead, with Darragh at his side, he had carried Ciara back to their home whispering soothing words trying to calm his terrified wife, whilst at the same time trying to calm his own panic at the agonising pain Ciara was suffering.

Ciara had been in labour for over ten hours, and Callum was starting to get worried. He kicked at the ground - Ciara, being Ciara, had refused to go to the camp clinic saying that people only went there to die, and she wouldn't have her child born there. In his heart, Callum was terrified of clinics too but had been desperate. 

Niamh had tried to persuade her too, but Ciara had stubbornly refused. In the end, they had both given up and made her as comfortable as they could on their old mattress and a pile of blankets. Callum had heard her cry out many times in pain and he had jumped to his feet wanting to be with her, to hold and comfort her. But Ciara had told him that she would be fine, that he should wait outside until their child was born.

Callum was frightened for Ciara - she was so delicate and petite, and her health was always frail mainly due to a lack of nutritional food, and more often than not the total absence of food completely. Callum tried his best, but times were hard, work was scarce and money and food were even scarcer, and their Nietzschean masters seemed to get crueller by the day.

He had questioned the wisdom of bringing a child into this cruel and unforgiving world many many times. Four children had been lost, and it seemed like sorrow had become second nature to them both. They had cried so many tears over their lost babies, but his beautiful Ciara was determined, so desperate for a child of her own, and he could refuse her nothing, even if it meant more tears and heartbreak.

Callum smiled remembering watching her on many occasions playing with his brother's child, Brendan, and her own sister's twins, Declan and Siobhan. Her usually pale face had been flushed and alive as she laughed with the children, making up games to keep them occupied. Ciara, he knew, had a huge capacity for love. She deserved a child of her own to love, cherish and protect.

Callum jumped to his feet pacing terrified that this time, childbirth would steal the love of his life away from him. He couldn't live without Ciara, and knew that he would die of a broken heart if anything happened to her. Ciara was his light. The only light in his dark and dismal existence.

Callum looked back up to the sky lost in his thoughts. He was jolted out of his thoughts by Ciara's loud cry, a scream that seemed to echo around the camp. Determined not to be put off this time, Callum ran towards their hut. As he neared the hut, a different type of cry reverberated into the darkness - a small, keening wail that seemed to build up to a crescendo.

Callum ran straight into Niamh, nearly knocking her to the ground. "You have a son," she slapped him on the back with a grin. "He's tiny, but as I am sure the whole camp heard, "Niamh jerked her head toward the back of the hut. "His lungs aren't. And he's sure making his presence known. Gonna be a talker that one," she kissed him gently on the cheek. "But he's beautiful Callum."

Callum returned the kiss. "And Ciara?" he asked anxiously. "Is Ciara okay?"

"Yes she's fine. Exhausted, but fine," Niamh smiled. "They both are."

Callum grinned widely. "Thanks Niamh," he kissed her again, hugging her hard. “For everything."

"You're welcome," Niamh returned the hug. "Now go visit with your family," she shooed him towards the back of the hut. She picked up a bundle of stained blankets and a bowl as she made her way towards the door. "I'll come back later to see how they're doing.” 

Callum grinned at Niamh again before creeping to the back of the hut. He looked down at his sleeping wife for a moment. He silently offered up a prayer thanking whoever up there protected them.

Slumping to his knees, Callum leaned forward kissing Ciara gently as he brushed a strand of damp blonde hair from her forehead. "Hi," he whispered.

Ciara opened her blue eyes, smiling tiredly. "We have a beautiful son," she looked up at Callum, her eyes filling with tears. "We have a son."

Callum nodded, swiping at his own eyes. This time, their tears were tears of joy, not sorrow. They had a child of their own at last.

"Do you want to meet him?" Ciara asked as she reached up touching his face, her fingers wiping at his tears. Callum could only nod again, not being able to think of anything to say. Ciara smiled as she shifted slightly, turning down her blanket, to reveal a small bundle, wrapped in a dirty blanket, nestled at her side. "Say hello to your father," she whispered to the tiny baby. "He's waited so long for you," she looked back up to Callum. "We both have," she offered the baby to Callum.

Callum stared in awe at his son as he carefully lifted the baby into his arms. He looked down at the new life they had created – pale skinned, tiny and delicate, his son wriggled and twitched in his arms. Wisps of blonde hair covered his tiny head, and when he opened his eyes, they were an icy pale blue. His new son blew bubbles as he gurgled contentedly, his small hands waving in the air. Callum took hold a small hand, feeling the softness, the warmth of life. The baby yawned and Callum laughed. "He's so tiny," he whispered.

"He'll grow," Ciara protested with a frown.

Callum chuckled. "Oh Ciara. He's beautiful. Just perfect," he sat down next to Ciara grabbing her hand and squeezing gently. "Just like his mother." He turned back to his now dozing son. "Have you decided on a name?" Callum dragged his gaze away from his son.

"I thought we could call him Seamus. After your father," she squeezed Callum's hand back. "And Zelazny after my father."

"Seamus Zelazny Harper," Callum murmured to himself. "It's a good name," he decided. Callum stroked Ciara's face gently. "You look tired. You had a busy night," he grinned happily. Ciara grinned back at him. "Why don't you go to sleep," Callum encouraged. "I just need to show Seamus something. We won't be long. Okay?"

Ciara shifted as Callum carefully tucked the blankets around her. "Just don't get into any trouble. My precious boys," she murmured closing her eyes as she descended into a peaceful sleep.

Satisfied that Ciara was asleep, Callum crept out of the hut, Seamus cradled in his arms. Removing his jacket, he wrapped it around his tiny son's blanket to ensure that he was kept warm against the cool night air. Wide awake again and wriggling in his father's arms, Seamus was once again blowing bubbles happily.

Callum smiled – nothing or no-one could or would ever take this feeling or this moment away from him - he was holding his son, warm and alive against his body. Callum vowed, then and there, that he would love, cherish and protect his son until death. His son. Callum liked the sound of that - he felt like screaming with joy, and grinned broadly at his foolishness. In his dark and miserable world, Callum now had two lights – Ciara and Seamus.

At the edge of the camp, Callum stopped and looked up at the sky. Tears sprang to his eyes – one lone star shone through the murkiness. He turned his son toward the sky. "Look Seamus," Callum whispered. "A Wishing Star." 

Seamus continued to gurgle happily. "That's where you belong," Callum murmured as he cradled his small son in his arms. "I didn't get there," he whispered

Callum stood silent, cradling his baby son, as he stared up towards the sky, up towards the Wishing Star. "But my wish tonight is that one day you will. That one day Seamus Zelazny Harper will live amongst the stars."

**Years later ......**

Leaning against the railing on the Observation Deck of the Andromeda, Harper stared out at the vastness of space, lost in his thoughts. The sheer size of space always made him feel lost and lonely, even small. Perhaps that was why he usually preferred the four walls of a workshop or engineering or even one of the myriad of passageways within the Andromeda. Harper never felt alone there.

Harper shivered, and not from the fever he had been battling for two days. He had escaped the med deck when Trance hadn’t been looking. Harper chuckled – they would find him eventually and drag him back, but this wouldn’t be the first place they looked for him. He glanced over his shoulder having a suspicion that Andromeda knew exactly where he was, was probably monitoring him, ready to snitch on him the moment he sneezed or his temperature spiked. “Of course she’s watching,” he murmured glancing around again. It was comforting, but Harper hoped that she wouldn’t tell the others, just yet. He wanted to be alone for a little while, just him and the stars.

Harper shivered again. He sighed; he was a survivor, and was stronger than most people thought or believed. But his stupid body refused to co-operate sometimes letting him down, catching this and that, and giving other people the completely wrong impression. It irritated him no end – another thing he had to thank for being a native of Earth.

Angry and frustrated, Harper stared out again at the panorama of twinkling stars and planets trying to focus on the view instead of his angry self-loathing - a stupid little Earth mudfoot soaring through the trillions of stars and planets on the Andromeda, sleek and beautiful, but deadly. “Who am I trying to kid? You suck,” he coughed.

Harper leaned forward; for some reason he couldn’t explain he had been drawn to the quiet of the Observation Deck after his escape from the med deck. He had to admit that the sight before him was beautiful, even calming, a vast array of radiance burning in the darkness of the universe. “Harper my man. May be you should get out more.” He chuckled tilting his head to one side. “What am I saying? Give me a flashing weapons array panel any day. A panel you can patch up, the universe not so much.”

Harper thought perhaps the brightness of the stars and planets represented Dylan’s hope for a new world. “Not only a genius but a poet too.”

Harper coughed again. He turned around leaning against the railing as he rubbed his hand absently in circles against his chest, until his coughing fit subsided into a series of harsh wheezes and rattling in his chest. He swiped at his forehead, and closed his eyes for a moment willing the annoying wheezing to stop. “Trance will have my skinny little hide,” he thought turning back toward the stars. He hoped that his coughing fit hadn’t got Andromeda alerting the others to his location.

A star, or maybe a planet, caught his eye, blinking in the huge inky black vastness. It stirred something long forgotten in the pit of his stomach. Harper scrunched up his eyes trying to remember, trying to dig up the tiny amount of good memories he had, throwing aside the terrible, frightening and hurtful memories. Too many to count, but determined Harper fought onward through the tangle of darkness and misery of his deepest thoughts.

Harper blinked opening his eyes – a Wishing Star. 

He grinned and leaned further forward watching as the star or planet continued to flash, like a beacon of pure light.

The memories assailed his mind – memories of his father, his mother, his family, all long dead. It was a place, deep inside, that he didn’t go very often but Harper relaxed and smiled letting the memories wash over him, warming him. 

Each year, on his birthday, his father had taken him, out of the camp, to look up at the stars. Harper wasn’t sure why it had been important to his father, but he hadn’t cared, it had been just the two of them. It was their time together, away from the camp, away from the cruelty and harshness of their life. Harper could almost feel his father’s hand clutching his tightly as they spent an hour staring up at the sky searching for the stars. On his tenth birthday, they had been lucky and seen a star flashing brightly in the smoky dimness. Harper recalled his father’s excitement at seeing the star.

“Why was it so damn important?” Harper scrunched up his eyes focussed, trying to remember through the fog of his life.

His father’s answer suddenly echoed in his mind. “It’s a Wishing Star. I made a wish on the night of your birth. Now close your eyes and make a wish Seamus, and one day it might just come true for you.” 

Harper couldn’t remember what he had wished for, something stupid and trivial probably. He shrugged, none of his wishes ever came true anyway. On the way home, sitting high on his father’s shoulders, Harper had asked his father what he had wished for. His father had chuckled. “I’ve only got one wish, but if I tell you, it may never come true.”

After his parents had been murdered by the Nietzscheans, Harper had stopped looking up to the stars and never marked another birthday. The years had faded into one, and now he couldn’t even remember how old he was. 

Coughing again, Harper stared out into space. “Seamus Harper, you’re getting freaking maudlin in your old age.” The star was still pulsing. He had a sudden urge to reach out and touch the Wishing Star – a connection with his long dead father.

“Make a wish Seamus.” A voice echoed in his head.

Harper turned full circle making sure no-one had crept up on him. He cleared his throat, and waved a hand toward the viewing window. He cleared his throat. “Hi Mr Wishing Star or is it Miss... well whatever,” Harper shrugged. “I don’t care. Girl. Boy... you know... I’m good whatever.”

“Close your eyes Seamus.” The walls seemed to whisper.

“This is so freaky,” Harper murmured, but obeyed just as if he was ten years old again standing by his father staring up into the gloomy skies over Boston. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Dad, I never found out what you wished for. You said it wouldn’t come true if you told me. So I don’t know if your wish for me ever came true. Maybe it did. Maybe it didn’t,” Harper shrugged again. “But my wish tonight is that you and Mum are happy, and together, and living amongst the stars.”


End file.
